Mallory and "Gary"

I read The Boy At the End of the Road and winced at the memory that it evoked of Mallory last summer.

One evening as we were finishing our Chinese take-out dinner, the door-bell rang. It was Mallory, a talkative eight-year old entrepreneur from “nine houses down the street” imploring us to come to her yard sale. Never mind it was Wednesday night. You see, her mom planned to take her and her brother Colton to Toys R Us on Thursday, and Mallory wanted to sell some of her toys today to increase her spending power tomorrow. And she thought Jeremy “might want a little kid’s toy.”

So we took an after-dinner stroll, Barb and I on foot, Jeremy in his car, and Mallory chattering non-stop. Frankly, we could only hear every fourth word or so over the din of the car’s plastic wheels against the concrete. Mallory stopped her monologue at one point, though, to ask us directly, “Are both of you Jeremy’s mothers?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Yes, and we think Jeremy is pretty lucky to have two moms.” Mallory said in a nonjudgmental voice, “That’s weird.” She paused for a few beats, and then said quietly and matter-of-factly, “My parents are divorced, and I have a mom and a step-mother, and I don’t feel lucky.” Then she resumed her monologue, querying whether Jeremy would want the stuffed Scooby-Do (with a small hole) for $2, a wind-up Happy Meal car for $1, or the little dragon for fifty cents.

When we arrived nine houses down, there was no sign of a yard sale. There was sign of her father and step-mother, standing with hands on hips and glaring at Mallory.

Them, angrily: “What are you doing going off down the street and leaving your things out front?”

Her, chirping: “Going to get customers!”

Them, still angry: “Yard sale’s over. Get in the house.” Mallory scurried away into the garage.

Just as we turned Jeremy around to head home, though, Mallory scurried back with the little blue plastic dragon in her hand. She held it out to Jeremy. “I want him to have it for free.”

Them, loudly: “Mallory! Don’t give your things away!”

My heart was torn. Do I praise her for her generosity, or reinforce Their rules, since they are the parents. Even Jeremy sensed the tension. He examined the small dragon, and then purposefully handed it back to Mallory.

Me, sad for her: “Mallory, that is so kind of you, but your parents don’t want you to give your things away. Thank you for playing with Jeremy this evening.”

Mallory’s face twisted up, all blotchy. She spun on her heels and ran into the house without another word.